


Cold Hands Warm Heart

by Joylee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, No Magic AU, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joylee/pseuds/Joylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold was a beast.  However, it wasn't Bae's fault who his father was.  And after some of Emma's terrible romantic choices Bae looked pretty good.  So her friend Belle could even put up with a beast to support the relationship.</p><p>And along the way Belle learns something about the inner heart of a beast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands Warm Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkinnyCanuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinnyCanuck/gifts).



Belle had not had a chance to visit the Antiquities/Pawn shop since her move to Storybrooke two months ago. It was the next store on Main Street though and she was going to try and get all the way to Fifth Street in her campaign before she was due back at the library.

The little bell over the door had a cheery sound. Which caused the very dapper middle aged man behind the counter to look up. “May I help you?”

Wondering slightly how this elegant Scotsman had landed in Storybrooke, she started her pitch. “Good afternoon. I'm Belle French, the new librarian, and I am approaching all of the business owners of Storybrooke today in the hope of enlisting your support for a fundraiser the library is conducting this Christmas. Are you the proprietor?”

“I am. Mr. Gold.” He offered his hand. A nice firm grip. 

“Why does the library need to be raising funds?” He asked. “Does the town budget not cover expenses?”

“Well it covers the basic operating costs, but we really need more money for teen and children's after school programs. And the public computer systems are sadly in need of upgrading.” 

“Have you brought this deficiency up before the town council?” He frowned. “It's typical of them to underestimate expenses, but we generally solve the issue by voting supplemental funds.”

How nice to run across someone who actually was interested in discussing a solution. She got sympathy from the Nolans and the Lucases, but she would far rather have someone who would help her work through the problem. “I brought it up with the mayor, but she said all the additional funds in the town budget were allocated and that I would need to wait until the next budget cycle.”

“Ah, yes. The mayor's new children's park that is going 200% over cost estimates.” His lips pursed. “Still one would think a better method could be found to meet public needs then selling... what are they raffle tickets?”

“No.” She handed him one her brochures. “The convent has graciously offered to let us piggyback our fund raising campaign on the annual Storybrooke Winter Ball. There are several levels of donations. With the diamond level ticket you get...”

“No.” His tone went cold. Dropping the brochure back in her hands, he added. 

“You've come to the wrong place if you're looking for money for the nuns, Dearie. Bloodsucking harpies who used a holiday as an excuse to steal from the gullible to line their own pockets. Cloaking their activities by pretending to care for the less fortunate. And if you are aiding them you're either a bigger fool than most or equally culpable. Good day, Miss French.”

With that she found herself back on the street. Seething, she ended up cutting short her visits and marching back to the diner where she and Emma had agreed to meet.

Apparently Emma had cut short her day as well, because she was sipping cocoa and going through paperwork for the ball when Belle arrived

“I met the _rudest_ man just now.” She told her friend as she slid into the booth opposite her.

“From that description I'm guessing either Gold or Leroy.” Emma stated.

“Mr. Gold. I barely mentioned that the library was joining in the convert ball to fund raise and he called me a fool and practically tossed me out of his shop.”

“Well, Gold's dislike of the nuns is long standing. He's tried to evict them more than once.” Emma said.

“Evict them? How can he evict a convent?”

“Gold owns the land the convent is built on.” Emma explained. “And he would dearly love to build something else there besides the convent. So far they've managed to fend him off, along with the help of some of their wealthier parishioners, like my dear step-grandmother, Regina. Come to that Gold owns most of the rental property, both residential and commercial in this town. I'm surprised you haven't run across him before this.” 

“My apartment comes with the job. It's owned by the city.” 

Just as she said that, Ruby announced from in front of the espresso machine. “Vente skinny latte for Gold.”

If that awful man was here she could tell him off with some of the things she had thought of on the walk here to meet Emma. But as she turned she saw only a man about her own age with a brightly colored scarf and a mop of dark hair that did not really go with the business man image his suit and top coat were meant to convey.

“Speak of the devil. Or rather his son.” Emma waved at the young man. “Bae! What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York doing the whole urban hipster artist thing?” 

“I was.” He came over and put his hand on the chair between her and Emma. Then looked from Emma to her, seeking permission to join them. Belle waved at the chair indicating he was welcome. Nice to meet a man who did not just assume he could interrupt a conversation between women. 

“However, it turns out I am I far more talented an accountant than an artist. Good thing I took that minor after all. So, for now I'm working at Midas Accounting while I study for my CPA exam and staying with my father. Gives me a chance to consider what I want to do.”

“Oh, Bae, I'm sorry.” 

But the man laughed. “It's not some great tragedy, Em. The world probably has more use for a good accountant than a mediocre painter. And there's no reason I can't paint for my own enjoyment.”

“But to move back in with your father...” Emma grimaced.

“Yeah, it's a real hardship to live in a beautifully restored Victorian mansionette with a housekeeping service I don't have to pay for.” He smiled. “And my father is far and away the best roommate I've ever had. Quiet, neat and he replaces my booze when he drinks it.”

Emma looked skeptical, but Belle heard real affection behind the man's words. Well, presumably even beasts were loved by their children.

“So what brings you back to Storybrooke?” He asked.

“You are looking at the new Chief Operating Officer for Blanchard Limited.” Emma informed him. 

“Congratulation. About time your family started giving you credit. Are you going to try and expand the company liked you used to talk about?” 

Not only polite, but he actually paid attention when a woman talked about something other than him. Belle was impressed. Pity he was related to Mr. Gold.

“Working on it. It's going to be a long slog.” Then Emma remembered her manners. “Belle this is Bae Gold. He was a couple of years ahead of me at school. Bae, this is Belle French. We were sorority sisters. She's the new head librarian.”

The younger, and nicer, Mr. Gold had rather old fashioned manners. Shaking Belle's hand and affirming how happy he was to meet her. “How are you liking Storybrooke so far?”

“It's been very welcoming for the most part.” She told him.

“Your father was a real asshole to her.” Emma scolded him.

But he just sipped his drink. “Em, I quit apologizing for the old man when I was sixteen. He is what he is.”

Belle felt rather bad for the man. He must have had a rough childhood as the son of that awful man. But Bae was getting a lot of points for good behavior. From the way Emma was gazing up at him her friend clearly though so.

On the other hand Emma had _terrible_ taste in men. Belle still shuddered to think about that poser writer that Emma had almost run off with junior year. And the less said about Walsh the better.

“So why were you talking with my father?” Bae asked.

“I'm helping Emma organize the annual Storybrooke Ball and I was hitting up businesses for support.” 

“Oh, Emma, you let her approach my father asking for money for the _convent_? Without warning her?” Bae shook his head. “You're the one who needs to apologize to the poor woman.”

He turned to Belle. “My father and the nuns have a feud going back twenty years or more.”

“Which no one can understand.” Emma put in. “They're nuns! Brides of Christ. Who hates nuns?”

“Anyone who's ever attended Catholic school?” From the way he said it, Belle suspected he used that comment to deflect this line of discussion frequently.

But she did rather need to understand the town's politics if she was going to run the library effectively. This seemed a major issue. “If he dislikes them that much, how did he end up leasing to them?”

“Convent came as a part of a larger land package he bought out of an estate auction.” Bae told her.  
“And I think you're the first person to ever notice that dichotomy. Anyway it was only after he purchased the property that the nuns produced a 99 year lease that they had apparently gotten the elderly owner to sign pretty much on her death bed.”

“That's... rather sharp dealings for nuns.” Belle pinioned.

“Yeah, he probably could have invalidated the whole deal based on misrepresentation. But he wanted the other parcels badly enough that he didn't force the issue. Still it added to already bad blood between him and Mother Superior. My father hates being bested in a deal.” 

He turned back to Emma, “So You're helping your Mom out with the ball. I thought she and Regina always ran that?”

“If by 'ran' you mean spent the entire time trying to one up each other, than yes.” Emma explained. “But this year, Regina is too busy mayoring to pitch in. Mom was going to do it, but we suddenly discovered I'm going to have a baby brother a couple of months ago.”

“Congratulations on that too.” Bae said.

“Thanks. She's having a real rough time and the doctor's got her on complete bed rest. So Regina informed me that it is my family duty to organize the thing. And provided a three inch binder with a long lecture about 'how things are done'. Most of which we're ignoring.” She waved at Belle. “And poor Belle got drafted to help on the strength of having been my sorority sister.”

“I'm happy to pitch in. Especially since the library will benefit too.” Belle put in.

“You know, Midas always donates bookkeeping services for the ball.” Emma smiled wolfishly at the young man. “I'll bet you'd get all kinds of points from him if you volunteered to be the one to help out.”

Subtle was not really in Emma's vocabulary. From the way young Mr. Gold eyed her over his cup he clearly did not mind. “Okay, but if I get disowned it's on you.”

 

The fish pie, one of Bae's favorite dishes, was being kept warm in the oven. There was white wine chilling to go with it. Gold had even had time to whip together some garlic butter to go on the baguettes he had picked up the bakery before his son made it home. “Dinner's ready whenever you are,” He told the younger man as he hung up his coat and toed off his shoes.

“It smells great.” Bae took a look in the oven as he padded into the kitchen. “ _Papa_ , you really don't need to cook for me like this every night. I'm not a kid. I fed myself the entire time I was in New York. Heck, you taught me to cook.”

“I like to cook. And it's more fun cooking for two.” He especially liked to cook for his boy. Who was no longer a boy and probably would not be living with him, or even in Storybrooke, for Gold to spoil for all that long. He may have come home to lick his wounds and regroup, but there was very little to keep him in coastal Maine. Once he got his feet back under him, Gold had no doubts he would be off to the big city once again.

So Gold intended to make the most of it while he could. “You can do the clean up if you feel the need to help with the chores.”

“Fine. But you have to let me make dinner some of the time.” Bae set the table as Gold dished up the food. 

As they ate, Bae mentioned, “I met the new librarian today. Apparently she went to college with Emma. She actually qualified or is it a case of the Blanchard/Mills/Nolan old boy network at work again?”

“Her credentials and references were excellent. That she had the backing of the Mayor and the Nolan undoubtedly was what secured her the job, however. Her father apparently is one of Leo Blanchard's old cronies. I had assumed that was the connection.” Gold sipped his wine. “She's terribly naive. Your typical sheltered little upper class twit.”

“Whom you managed to get the back up of at your first meeting.” Bae shook his head. “Really, Papa, only you could meet a girl as pretty as that and insult her right from the get go. She's pissed at you and now Emma's pissed on her behalf.”

“And you're misjudging her. She got a brain. Not to mention that arguably _I'm_ a sheltered little upper class twit.” 

Gold had to smile at that. He measured his success by the fact that he had managed to make sure his boy never had to struggle like he had done. Still, “I hardly think anyone is going to call you naive, son.”

Shrugging Bae returned to the subject. “At any rate, between her and Emma, somehow I've been drafted to help with the finances for the ball this year. Which earned me brownie points with Midas, as usually he has to strong arm some one to do it. I know you won't participate, but I hope you're not going to be too bent out of shape that I'm doing it.”

When a young man let himself get 'drafted' into doing grunt work by a pretty woman, it was not usually due to sudden charitable impulses. And the little librarian, despite being silly enough to help out those blasted nuns, was very pretty indeed. Half the reason the boy had come home rather than look for work in New York was that his girlfriend there had dumped him for a more successful artist. Since Gold had never liked Tamara, who to his eye was more interested in his son's trust account than his boy, this did not particularly bother Gold. The boy was young. He would get over it. But this was the first interest he had shown in a woman since Tamara. 

So Gold merely said, “As far as I'm concerned you are volunteering to help out the library and the convent will be ignored. Just don't expect me to donate any money.”

“Wasn't planing on even asking.” Bae looked at him suspiciously. “You gave in on that way to easily. What's your agenda here?”

“It just seems a good way for you to get to know some of the other young people in Storybrooke.” Gold said. 

“Oh you're matchmaking.” Bae sighed. “I suppose I should be thankful you haven't just presented me with an arranged marriage.”

“Don't be silly. We're no where near that posh.” His son had been able to see through him since he was ten. “I'm just going to nag you to find a nice girl and give me grandchildren. You have to do the work yourself.

But he made a mental note to mend fences with the pretty little librarian. Bae would have a much better chance with her if she did not think his father a git.

 

Several days after her encounter with Mr. Gold senior. Belle looked up to find him standing over her desk. She braced for the worst.

But her merely said. “Ms. French, I owe you an apology. It was unfair of me to put you in the middle of long standing grievances between the nuns and myself. You had no way of knowing about them and were only trying to do your job. I'm sorry for taking my ill feelings toward them out on you.”

“Did Bae tell you to apologize to me?” Belle asked suspiciously.

Gold had the grace to look abashed. “Not in so many words. He did point out my incivility. My attempt to make up for my bad behavior is completely of my own volition I assure you.”

“In that case I accept your apology.” She told him. “Any chance it extends as far as a donation to the ball?”

“No. I still have no intention of giving money to the convent. You'll have to be satisfied with Bae's assistance as the Gold family contribution to your attempts.” 

“It was worth a shot.” She shrugged.

“And I admire your tenacity.” Gold grinned slightly. “Now if you'll excuse me I need to have a word with Marco.”

Belle watched as Mr. Gold went over to the town handyman who was fixing some of the less steady bookshelves. With all the work that needed doing around the library Marco was fast becoming a friend. She did not like the anxious look he developed as Gold approached him. She wondered if she should intervene.

She actually stood to join the two men when she saw Marco suddenly raise his hands to cover his face. But before she got around the front desk, he dropped them again to grab Mr. Gold's hand in both of his and was shaking it vehemently with a broad smile. 

Mr. Gold at least stayed true to form. Looking extremely uncomfortable and withdrawing his hand as soon as he could., though he continued the conversation for several minutes longer.

She wondered what that was all about, but as Marco spent the afternoon happily humming over his work, she really could not come up with an excuse to ask him. 

 

A week after mending fences with the pretty little librarian, Gold was feeling very pleased with himself as he made it home from a long Court day in Bangor. His pleasure was increased when he entered through the kitchen door, arms full of bags containing dinner to find his son at the dining room table surrounded by stacks of paperwork, clearly in conference with Belle French and Emma Nolan.

Well, this was an excellent step. He had gotten the girl to visit him at home. Even if she did bring her friend to chaperone. “Good evening, ladies. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Emma blinked at him in surprise. Perhaps he had been a bit too jovial. But Miss French responded. “We had a meeting scheduled for planning the ball and when Bae wasn't feeling well we moved it here. He said you wouldn't mind.”

“Not at all.” He answered automatically. His mind now on his son. “Are you sickening with something, Bae?”

Taking off his glove he put his hand to the back of the boys neck. He did not seem feverish.

Just embarrassed as hell. “ _Papa_!” Bae pulled away from him.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Gold raised his hand. “When you hear your child is ill you revert twenty years.”

“I'm not ill.” Bae grumbled. “Midas took me to a client luncheon and the guy insisted we go for hot wings. Which were apparently too hot for my stomach to handle.”

“Too hot? You grew up eating vindaloos.” Gold was still concerned.

“Which was why I didn't figure the hot wings would bother me.” Bae told him. “Although it may have had as much to do with those weird drinks we had with them. Next time I'm sticking to beer.”

“American beer will be as bad for your digestion as the hot wings.” Gold had never adjusted to what American's served as beer. “Go with whisk. You can usually impress a potential business contact with even a modicum of knowledge about decent whisky.

“I picked up dinner from Khan's on my way back from Portland.” He considered. “You can probably managed the rice and Rita even with a queasy stomach. Would you ladies care to join us?”

“We wouldn't to put you out.” Ms. French said politely. 

“It's no trouble.” Gold told her quickly.

“He always brings home enough for a small army.” Bae added. “If you don't help us eat it, we'll have left overs for days. And I'm not sure my stomach would be up for it.”

“Well if you're sure. I must say it's been ages since I've had good Indian food.” Ms French smiled.

It was an enchanting smile. Gold found himself smiling back.

“What were you up to in Portland, that you were near Khan's” Bae asked.

“Court day.” Gold had to smile. “Managed to finalize the placement of the last Pepper child.”

“With his brothers and sisters?” At Gold's nod, Bae gave him a high five and one armed hug. “Way to go, Papa!”

Turning to the women, Bae explained. “Papa does a lot of work with the foster adoption program. They had these five kids who lost both their parents and he was trying to keep them all together. They were having trouble convincing the Judge to let one family take so many kids at one time.”

Ms. French looked puzzled. “This is a sideline to the shop?'

“No, the shop is the sideline.” Gold explained. “I'm a lawyer. These days I mostly only represent myself in my real estate and loan business. But I still keep my hand in with some adoption work.”

This thawed Ms. French's attitude toward him somewhat. She insisted on helping him heat up the food which had gotten a bit cold on the drive back from Portland. And further insisted, “I'm Belle. If you're going to be feeding me, you should at least use my first name.”

He wanted her to be comfortable around him so he said. “Angus. But please don't shorten it to Gus.”

Bae gave him a startled look. Then Gold remembered he had insisted that Tamara call him 'Gold' like nearly everyone else. Then his son's expression changed to a knowing look. To try and diffuse the young man's suspicion, Gold added. “You should call me Angus as well, Emma. You were in and out of here all the time when you and Bae were in school together. You certainly know me well enough. And you're too old to still be calling me Mr. Gold.”

“My _parents_ still call you 'Mr Gold'.” Emma was startled as well.

“Well, yes, but you're parents aren't friends of Bae's, or guests at my table.” Gold passed Emma the raita to demonstrate his point.

When Bae took barely a taste of the food, Gold had to say, “You should eat more than that, Bae. Leaving your stomach empty won't help settle it.”

“I had a bowl of porridge before you got home, Papa. Don't fuss.”

“A bowl of porridge isn't dinner.” Gold grumbled over his own meal.

The women exchanged grins at this interplay. 

“We used to have porridge for dinner all the time when I was a kid.” Bae maintained.

“We did not.” Gold retorted. “Well, only for a few months and then only just before payday when the pantry was getting bare.”

“Maybe. But porridge is comfort food to me.” Bae told him.

 

After that night, the Storybrooke Ball planning committee more or less took over the Golds' dining room for their meetings. Gold made a point of having snacks on hand for the group and invited the women to dinner as often as seemed hospitable without being pushing. 

One such night the first week of December, Belle insisted on helping him prepare tea. As she went about it in the traditional British manner, Gold suspected this was an 'impress the parent' move. Which worked. A girl who could make a proper cup of tea was definitely a keeper.

Bae was giving Emma a run down of the history of some of the decorations they had put up over the weekend. They had come to the large poster board mounted in the dining room. On which Bae had drawn the outline of a tree. A few ornaments and a present had been drawn in as well.

“It's a family tradition.” Bae told her. “Kind of a do it yourself advent calendar. Only we add something to it every night. Couple of years, when we were living in the apartment over the shop, we used this instead of an actual tree. Didn't really have room for one.”

Belle, who was pouring out the water she had used to heat the tea pot, asked Gold in a low voice. “Was this in the same time period that porridge made a regular appearance on the dinner table?”

“Just after. Yeah.” Better she know from the get go she was not getting someone born to the purple. “I hadn't finished law school and it was tough to find work which would let me schedule around that and still care for a small child. The money I saved not buying a tree meant some presents in his stocking come Christmas day.”

 

As the ball drew nearer the meetings to plan it increased. One afternoon when Belle could not get away from the library they got together at the library. 

They were reviewing the final bids for services. Bae busily entering numbers into his spreadsheet. From his frown he clearly did not like the totals

Belle joined him in that dislike. “Do we really need the party planner? They're charging almost as much as the caterer.”

“Trust me. We need the party planner.” Emma did not sound any happier about it than she did. “Otherwise we'll have run ourselves ragged buying all the favors and decorations and flowers. _And_ , then we'll have to organize a bunch of people to set up. Half of whom won't show up and we'll end up with the nuns doing it. Which will result in it looking like somebody decorated a second grade class room. My Mom tried to do it without a planner a couple of years when I was a kid. I got drafted to help and we were at it all night.”

"You know the guys my father uses don't charge anywhere near this much.” Bae put in. “Admittedly they're out of Portland and not a high end Boston firm, but I'll bet if you tell them I referred you they'll give you a deal.” 

Belle made a note. “I don't suppose your father has a guy who could save us money on the printing as well?” 

“Pretty sure he just uses the local fellow.” 

As they continued going through the bids, Marco came up to the table. His hand on the shoulder of a little red headed boy Belle had never seen before. “Miss Nolan, Miss Belle, I wanted you to meet my boy. This is August. He's going to be living with me from now on.” 

Belle had not realized Marco had a child. “It's a pleasure to meet you, August. Would you like to pick out some books to take home to read with your father? I'll get you a library card.” 

The boy looked up at Marco, questioningly. The man told him. “That's a good idea. You should have your own card. But first, this is Bae Gold. He's the one who gave you those clothes. You should thank him.” 

'Thank you, for the clothes, Mr. Gold.” August lost some of his shyness and smiled at Bae. “This is the best coat I've ever had. And I really like The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe tee shirt. That's my favorite movie.” 

From the look on Bae's face this act of generosity was clearly news to him, but he covered well. “Yeah, I really liked it too.” 

After pointing August toward the children's section, Marco said to Bae, “When the foster care people called out of the blue and said they had a boy for me, your father let me have some of your old clothes to help outfit him. It still seems like a miracle. My late wife and I always wanted children. But her illness kept us from having any or adopting. So when Mr. Gold suggested I could foster to adopt a child, it was like a dream come true. I can't thank you enough.” 

“My father's the one you should thank.” Bae told him. “And don't worry about the clothes. It's not like we've got any use for them.” 

After Marco left them to help August pick out some books. Belle commented. “Didn't The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe come out in 2005? When you would have been what, fifteen? That tee shirt would have been awfully small for you.” 

Bae shrugged. “Papa must have picked up some stuff for the kid at Target. Foster kids always need clothes. Marco doesn't need to have to come up with a way to pay for school clothes in addition to getting that kid settled in. When I was a kid, we used to donate the stuff I outgrew to some kid or another all the time. Papa probably told him that so as not to embarrass Marco who would regard it as charity.” 

Which it was. And a very considered one at that. Angus had hidden depths it appeared. 

As they drove down to interview Bae's suggested party planners, Belle told Emma, “I'm not at all surprised to learn that Angus has 'guys'. But I confess to being more than a little surprised that includes party planners.” 

“When we were at school together, Bae always had the best birthday parties.” Emma reminisced. “I think Gold deliberated went all out to make sure the other kids would show up. Looking back I realize now Bae had a tough time fitting in. He wasn't old money like my crowd, but Gold was well off by then and he didn't really fit in with the scholarship kids either.” 

“Do you know how Gold made his money?” Belle was curious. And not a little uneasy as to the answer. 

“I've got no idea where his initial capitol came from, but he picked up some properties when the Storybrooke Savings and Loan went under in the mid 90's. Instead of flipping them like other people were doing, he renovated them and rented them for cash flow. Which he then used to buy other properties and finance his loan business.” Emma paused. “Regina calls him a loan shark, but from what Dad says Gold is meticulous about staying within the law. Which puts him one up on my great-grandfather. Whom I'm pretty sure had ties to the mob back in prohibition days.” 

“My ancestors were transported felons, so I'm not in a position to be judgmental.” Belle told her. 

Gold''s 'guys' proved to considerably less expensive than Regina's high end planner. And willing to give them a deal on top of that. “It's for charity after all.” The artsy one of the pair told them. 

His partner (Belle had missed who was who in the introduction) added, “And over and above that, you're friends of young Mr. Gold. Such a nice young man. For friends of his we can cut a little off the bottom line.” 

“How is it you know Bae?” Emma's question came out more suspicious than she probably intended. 

“Mr. Gold senior, went to bat for us when that _awful_ nun the state sent to do our home study wasn't going to let us adopt our girls.” Artsy proudly pointed to a family portrait of the two partners with two teenage girls leaning over their shoulders. “Why we've practically watched that boy grow up over the years.” 

“Mr. Gold does that many parties?” Belle supposed he probably entertained for business reasons. 

“Well occasionally. Mostly it's his annual gifts for the foster kids.” The partner grinned. “We're probably going to do over a hundred this year.”” 

“Mr. Gold is involved with a charity that arranges gifts for foster children?” 

“Oh, honey, Mr. Gold _buys_ gifts for foster kids.” Artsy told her. “He gets the names of foster children in the Storybrooke area and then he goes out and buys each one on the list a nice warm coat or sweater. Adds a stocking with an age suitable toy or book and some candy. Then we wrap them up and arrange for delivery.” 

“It started small. A dozen or so.” The partner continued. “But as Gold's gotten more successful he keeps increasing the number. It's gotten so big that we've had to enlist the help of one of the local youth groups to get everything wrapped and delivered.” 

“We've been doing it now for sixteen years.” Artsy added proudly. “Young Mr. Gold's been involved from the beginning. When he was small he was responsible for picking out the little toy to go with each gift. But the year he was seventeen, Gold was laid up with ankle surgery and couldn't do the shopping himself. Gold asked us if we could step in and do it. But we're just too busy this time of year to take on more work. So that young man took the list, there were over fifty names on it, and our girls pitched in to help him and they managed to do all the shopping themselves. I was so proud of them.” 

“So was Gold. He insisted on taking all of us to Disney World when his ankle healed up.” The partner added conspiratorially, “Although I've always suspected we got invited along because the man had no clue what to do at an amusement park.” 

This generosity did not fit very well with the reputation Angus had in Storybrooke. Apparently Emma was thinking along the same lines as she commented. “You know I'm beginning to think my family may be on wrong side of the Gold/nuns feud.” 

“In the nuns' defense, that adoption must have taken place sixteen years ago.” Belle pointed out. “Adoption by gay couples wasn't even legal everywhere.” 

“Which kind of makes Gold's standing up for those guys all the more admirable.” Emma responded. “And that's without taking into account this whole playing Santa to a bunch of foster kids. I wonder why Bae never mentioned it?” 

“The same reason he blew off Gold giving Marco those clothes for August, probably.” Belle said. “Aren't there people who think it doesn't count as true charity if people know you do it?” 

“Are there?” Emma asked. “Wish my family took that view. I could really live without this competition Mom and Regina have about who's the greatest do gooder.” 

Over dinner that night, Gold asked, “With the work you're doing with Belle and Emma are you going to have time to help out with the gifts for the foster children?” 

“Sure.” Bae looked up from his plate. “I'm not going to let the ball interfere with that. Have you got the list from the foster care people? We could go down to Portland Friday night. Get dinner and take in a movie like we used to and then get an early start on the shopping on Saturday.” 

“We'll need to.” Gold took a sip of his wine. “The foster care people got a little carried away. The list they sent has 134 names on it. That's more than I planned on, but clearly there's a need. And it's not like I can't afford it.” 

“Yeah, I told them to include the rest of the county as well.” Bae told him. “Figured I add a couple of thousand to the pot.” 

“Bae, you don't need to do that.” Gold remonstrated. “You should be saving your money.” 

“You're not letting me pay any rent, Papa. And I'm making good money with Midas. I'm saving plenty.” Bae took on a stubborn look that Gold recognized from his own mirror. “Storybrooke is my home too. If I'm going to live here, I need to contribute. I was lucky enough to grow up with a father to look after me. So giving a couple of dozen kids who aren't that lucky a decent holiday is the least I can do.” 

Gold took another sip of wine to clear the lump from his throat. “I'm so proud of you, lad. You're grown into a truly good man.” 

“Yeah, well,” Bae looked embarrassed. “My papa taught me what was important. Even if he is 'as tight fisted a Scotsman to ever live'." 

“Regina was on a roll when she said that. If I'm that much of a miser _you're_ paying for dinner Friday.” Gold growled playfully.

The week before the ball, Belle woke well before her alarm was set to find her apartment at about 45 degrees and growing colder. After several minutes of fiddling with the controls to the heater she gave up and got dressed and went to work. She waited until seven to call the number for the property management company the city had given her. 

She was startled when the call was answered. “Gold here.” 

“You're my property manager?” She asked. 

Gold chuckled. “My company is the only one in the county. The town either hires me or pays someone from Bangor two hours travel time when something needs repairing. What's wrong?” 

“My furnace died sometime in the night.” 

“Did you check the circuit breaker?” 

“Yes, I tried turning it on and off.” She told him. And was a bit surprised when he got joke. She would not have taken him for a fan of cheap Britcoms. 

“I'll send Dove over to take a look. Are you staying warm enough?” 

“I'm at the library so yes.” 

By the time Gold called her back she was on her third cup of tea and starting to feel her toes again. “My son would ask if you wanted to hear the good news or the bad news.” 

“Bad news first.” 

“Your furnace needs parts that are going to have to come from out of state. We've been promised one day delivery and Dove should be able to have it fixed before tomorrow night, but you're not going to have any heat tonight.” 

Belle sighed and wondered how many space heaters her wiring could handle. And how many the hardware store had in stock. “And the good news?” 

“You have choice of accommodations. I can set you up with a room at Granny's or you're welcome to our guest room.” 

“Do you routinely offer to put up your tenants in your home?” Belle was sure that was not the case. 

“No. But you get the Golds' Friends and Family Plan.” He told her. “You'll have more privacy at Granny's, but the cuisine is better at our house. _And_ we have a hot tub, which I switched on this morning. Should be lovely and warm by the time you're done with work.” 

“I'll pack a bag and be over by six.” Belle tried to convince herself that it was the thought of relaxing in hot tub that had her excited, not spending the night with Angus. Well, not _with_ Angus. Although if he turned on the hot tub before leaving for work he clearly intended to use it. So they would be sharing that tub. 

By the time she was back in her apartment debating as to which swim suit she would take, she gave up on deluding herself. If it were just the hot tub and not the company, she would not be dithering over which suit was most flattering. No. Time to admit it to herself. She was developing a serious fascination with Angus. Hopefully the blue bikini she was taking would help insure the interest was mutual. 

From the way he checked her out as she climbed into the hot tub with him, there was definitely some interest. But after that once over he kept his eyes firmly above her shoulders. Which was gentlemanly but a bit disappointing. 

“Oh, this is lovely.” She sighed as she relaxed in the water. 

And not just the hot tub. Angus in swim trunks was worth a look. Admittedly he was carrying a bit of extra weight around his waist. But it was silly to expect a six pack on a man his age. But there was still a nice lean musculature in his arms and shoulders. 

“Isn't it?” Angus too was leaning back and letting the water take his weight. “Granted it's a bit of an extravagance to run it when the weather's this cold, but I tell myself it's therapeutic.” 

“For your leg?” 

“Well, that too,” He admitted. “The cold stiffens the joint and this helps loosen it up. But mostly it helps me to relax. Mother Superior was being particularly tiresome today. She wants a complete upgrade to the electrics. And thinks she can do it on cheap without bothering with either permitting costs or a profession electrician. I am not letting Leroy rewire a building I own and have to insure.” 

Finally an opening to ask what she had been wondering about for some time. “Why do you dislike the nuns so much? It goes deeper than just being bested in a deal.” 

He glanced toward the window where Bae, who had declined to join them in the hot tub because he was preparing dinner, could be seen chopping something. The he spoke quietly. “They tried to take Bae away from me.” 

“What?” She gasped. “Why?”

“They said I couldn't properly care for him.” His jaw tightened. “I was still in law school when Milah left us. I _was_ working, but it was an internship that paid less than minimum wage. Without her income I had trouble meeting basic expenses. So I had swallowed my pride and gone to the food bank. The nuns ran that and while they were more than happy to hand out food to single mothers, a _man_ who needed help wasn't fit to care for his child. _And_ they leaned on my landlord. Who also was their landlord. Told her to evict us. Because clearly she did not want a shiftless tenant like me.” 

“What did you do?” 

“What could I do? I figured I'd have to quit law school and find better paying work. Thing was jobs I could do with a bad leg were thin on the ground in coastal Maine. I had just about given up hope when I ended up asking Mr. Zoso, who owned the pawnshop, if he needed any help. 

“It was a true pawnshop back then.” He continued. “No antiques. Just straight up loans and collateral. Not to mention Zoso was 'connected'. The pawnshop was a cover for his loansharking business. I don't know whether he felt sympathetic to a fellow immigrant or just figured he couldn't lose anything by giving me a try. His muscle had just been locked up and he needed someone to do his collection work. I think I impressed him when I dickered him up from a ten percent commission on the collections to sixteen percent. I don't think he expected me to actually get anywhere; a skinny kid and a cripple to boot.” 

Gold check on Bae again. Belle could understand why he did not want his son to hear this story. Then the man went on. “Thing was I'd grown up in Glasgow. I'd seen the hard men there and how they operated. So I put on my interview suit, which by luck was a pinstripe, with a dark shirt, snappy tie and pocket square. 

“Then I went out and proceeded to bluff like crazy. I bullied. I swore. I threaten men twice my size. 

“And it worked. I earned more that day than I made in two months at my internship. Zoso was so impressed he kept me on. Let me have the apartment above the shop in exchange for minding the shop for him part-time. And insisted that I stay in law school. Set my hours to work around my class schedule. Said that I'd be even more valuable to him after I passed the Bar.”

“Were you?” Belle asked. 

“I was.” Gold looked proud. “I convinced him that he could do better in the long run by going legit. We started the first payday loan operation in this part of the state. I eventually bought into the business and started to invest our profits in real estate. Bae ended up calling him Uncle Zoso. When his health failed we even had him move in with us. By then we were living here. There was plenty of room. 

“And it wasn't because of the money.” Gold denied. “I didn't know until after his death that he'd left me his share of the business. He'd never had any children and it wasn't as though that cousin of his who was his next of kin didn't get a tidy sum. I'd made sure he was well insured and she got all of the liquid assets as well.” 

He sat back. “And that, my dear, is the story of how I became the beastly Mr. Gold.” 

“A beast who did it all to protect and care for his child.” No wonder he was so invested in foster children. 

The ball eventually came and went. Gold did not go, of course. But he did keep an ear open for town gossip and the consensus was that it went very well. “Although Regina's were always fancier. Still not bad for a first try.”

But three days after the ball something was up with Belle and Emma. They had arrived an hour ago with a thick file and had been in deep discussion with Bae in the dining room ever since. He was hammering away at his laptop and there was paperwork spread all over the table. Bae looked increasingly glum. Emma was frowning. And Belle looked like she was ready to bite someone's head off. 

His curiosity finally got the better of him. He used the excuse of wanting a cup of tea to wander through the dining room. “Can I get you anything? Some biscuits to go with your coffee?” 

Even Belle was drinking coffee. He suspected that was a bad sign. 

“Actually, Papa, can you take a look at the agreement the library signed with the convent? Especially paragraph eleven.” 

“Of course.” Taking the document, Gold started scanning it. “Issues with the nuns I take it?” 

“They're saying they should be paid for the work they did on the ball.” Belle told him. “And the bill they've sent will leave us with nothing for the library.” 

“Well, not nothing.” Bae corrected her. “I make it out to be $7342.16 in net proceeds.” 

“Half of which the convent gets!” Belle's voice rose. “I could have raised three grand with a fucking bake sale! And saved myself two months hard work!” 

“Not to mention the ball is supposed to be raising money for the orphanage.” Emma put in. “This will put all of the money into the convent's general fund rather than going to the kids” 

Turning on Bae, she added. “Yeah, I know they'll get like 3500 bucks. But people donated on the strength of the money going to the orphans. We defrauded half the town!” 

“More like two percent.” Bae responded. “Not that many people actually donated.” 

As the two woman glared at him he shrugged. “What? I'm an accountant. I do the math.” 

“You probably don't need to worry about town opinion.” Gold put in absent mindlessly as he read the pertinent clause in the contract.” “Most of the people who attended went for the party not because of the charity. And the few who actually bother to pay attention to where the money goes know that the nuns always skim off the bulk of the funds from the ball for their own use.” 

“You _knew_ about this?” Belle hissed. “And didn't tell us?” 

Even Gold knew enough about women to know from that tone of voice he was in trouble. Too late to back peddle out to it, he decided to go with the truth and hope for the sake of future family relations she would eventually forgive him. “The nuns have to pay taxes on the portion of their income that comes from business activity just like everyone else. Since they have a rather elastic definition of what constitutes 'business' the Treasurer’s auditing committee generally makes a point of reviewing their filings.” 

“Especially during the years when you're on the committee?” Bae guessed. “I wondered why you were willing to serve on that thing.” 

“I am _asked_ to serve by citizens who want the public tax records reviewed by someone who is not intimated by the town elites.” Gold told him haughtily. “To return to my point, those audits are a matter of public record. It would be clear to anyone who bothered to look how little of the funds raised by the ball every year actually ends up being used for the orphanage.” 

“Oh, God. You even told me that the first time we met!” Belle dropped her head into her hands. 

He had actually. But he knew better than to say so. “Not explicitly. And by then you had already signed this contract. In which you agreed that the nuns would be reimbursed for any outlay the convent made to toward the ball including labor. So, yes, they can indeed bill you for their time. 

“You should have read the contract more closely, my dear.” Gold shook his head. 

“I did read the contract.” Belle growled. “I _specifically_ asked about that clause, because I was trying to calculate how much we were likely to see in proceeds. Mother Superior said they needed to cover their administrative expenses and it wouldn't amount to much. 

“She out and out lied to me!” 

“She's a nun.” Emma said. “She not suppose to lie. Do you have any idea how many times she slapped my hand because 'good' girls don't lie?” 

“Except when she needs to.” Gold put in. “Always in the name of the 'greater good' of course.” 

Emma looked troubled. “My family has been organizing that ball since my Mom was little. How could they not know the nuns were ripping it off?” 

“As I recall when your grandmother was involved the money simply went to the convent.” Gold told her. “It was only after she married your grandfather and took over his charitable activities that Regina changed the beneficiary to the orphanage in an attempt to broaden the donor base beyond people who were willing to give to a religious order. I have no idea if your mother realizes how little of the money actually ends up benefiting the orphans.” 

“Even if she does, it's not that unusual for this kind of charity event to return a fairly small amount to the actual charity.” Bae put in. “I don't think anyone but Belle is going to have a problem with these numbers.” 

“Well, I've got a problem.” Belle declared. “A big problem. We worked out butts off keeping the costs down so as to have the money for the library. Isn't there anything I can do to keep more of it?” 

“You could challenge the amount of time and the rate at which they are billing you.” Gold suggested. “Since nothing is specified in the contract, 'community standards' would apply. The yacht club pays their people minimum wage to work that sort of event.” 

Bae shook his head. “Whoever put this bill together was smarter than that. They're billing for managerial and planning services at the rates of that party planner Regina uses. Not to mention 'Administrative Oversight' whatever the hell that's suppose to be.” 

“Mother Superior peering over everyone's shoulder.” Gold supplied. “Have you spoken to the convent about reducing this bill?” 

“I did.” Emma told him. “They won't budge. Mother Superior made a big deal about all of the work they did and how the convent needs to money to continue their 'charitable missions. 

“Which I didn't find very convincing even before she pointed to the packages you guys provided to the foster kids as evidence of them supporting the kids in their care. Things got real testy when I told her I knew damn good and well those gifts didn't come from the convent and that she should be ashamed to claim responsibility for someone else's charity. The conversation ended with me stomping out after telling her she wouldn't be getting any more help from my family for the convent. 

“Regina is really pissed at me over that, by the way. Although we both agreed that we weren't going to tell Mom about it until after the baby comes.” 

“You didn't tell her where those gifts came from?” The last thing Gold wanted was to swamped with people coming to him for handouts. 

“No. I knew you wouldn't want her to know.” Emma shook her head. “I don't understand why you don't want people to know how generous you are, but I'm not going to be the one to out you.” 

“So, the library is just out of luck?” Belle slumped. “Could we sue them? For misrepresentation or something?” 

“On the strength of an oral representation outside the four corners of the contract? You'd lose.” Gold was always blunt about the law. But he had not felt this bad about anything since he had to break the news to Bae that his mother was petitioning to terminate her parental rights so as not to have to pay child support. “Not only that but since the Mayor and two of the five town counsel members are good Catholics, suing the Arch Diocese, who you'd have to name, the convent is not an entity separate from the Dioceses, would just make it harder for you to get funding from the town down the road. Not to mention what would likely happen when your contract came up for review.” 

“So, I'm screwed.” She looked so distressed it was all Gold could do not to pull out his checkbook and offer to make up the difference. 

He had a feeling that would not go over well. “There are always other fund raisers. Perhaps we can help you organize something next year.” Which he would make certain was only for the library and to which he would make a generous donation. Anonymously of course. 

“A silent auction perhaps. That would be much easier to organize. We'll even start you off. Something pretty from the shop and Bae can donate one of his paintings.” 

“Bae will donate a free tax preparation.” His son put in. “Nobody but you is going to bid on one of my paintings.” 

Which had actually been Gold's plan. 

“I like your paintings.” Emma disagreed. “In fact I was planning to commission you to paint something for my little brother's nursery.” 

Having a plan cheered Belle up slightly. Bae offered to take the woman out to the Rabbit Hole to drown their sorrows. 

That night Gold woke in the predawn morning from a very disturbing dream which involved undoing the tie of Belle's bikini with his teeth. Splashing cold water in his face helped calm himself down. But he was disturbed enough over having sex dreams about his son's young lady that he decided a calming cup of tea was in order. 

Only to find the lights he had left on for Bae still on and the front door chain off. That level of irresponsibility was very unlike his son. He must have really tied one on to not at least put the lock on. Gold decided to check on him to make sure he was all right. 

Only to find Bae's room empty and the bed still made. 

His first thought was accident. His second, a vision of Belle, naked withering under his son. The flash of anger and possessiveness that accompanied this vision was almost physical. 

Dear God! What was he thinking? Bad enough to have dreams about her, but to be jealous of his own son was obscene! He had tread morally ambiguous business deals in his time, but he had never realized he could be _that_ kind of a monster. He was a very bad man. 

This had to be dealt with. And soon. Resolving that he would book himself some sessions with Dr. Hopper as soon as the holidays were over, he headed back downstairs. That cup of tea was even more needed. 

He was on his fourth cup when he heard Bae's key in the lock. As the door opened he called out, “Morning. There's porridge on stove if you want it. Or have you already had breakfast?” 

“Uhn, no.” Bae removed his winter coat revealing a rather wrinkled shirt under the suit he had worn last night. “Um, thanks.” 

As his son fiddled with that over engineered coffee maker he had brought back from New York, Gold sipped his tea. Before the silence could grow too thick he remarked. “Sidney has managed to come up with an even lamer year end edition of the Mirror than last year's. I didn't think that was possible.” 

“The radio was saying there's a storm expected in the next couple of days.” Bae clearly was more than willing to talk about anything other than why he had not come home last night. Even if it meant bringing up the weather. “That should give him something to write about.” 

They indulged in some more uncomfortable small talk about weather as Bae got his breakfast. He brought his bowl and cup to the table. Gold pushed the milk bottle over toward him. Keeping his voice completely neutral, he asked. “Any plans for after work?”

“Thought I might watch the game.” Bae was concentrating on his porridge as though it held the secrets of the universe. “There something you wanted to do?” 

“I had thought to shop for the food for Christmas dinner.” He did not want to guilt the boy into anything, but he did rather need to know what he should be doing. “Unless you've made other plans?” 

“What else would I be doing Christmas?” Bae asked. 

“Don't you want to spend it with your young lady? After last night she'll rather be expecting it.” 

Bae sat back in his chair and sighed. “Kind of surprised you waited this long to bring up my not coming home last night.” 

“You're twenty-five not fifteen. How you choose to spend your evenings is none of my business.” Gold sipped his tea. 

“What no lecture?” Bae asked skeptically. 

“I'm pretty sure we had that talk when you _were_ fifteen.” Gold pointed out. “As long as you treat her properly you'll get no reproaches from me. Quite the contrary. I know it's early days yet, but I wouldn't mind at all having her as part of the family. She's a remarkable young woman. You'd be lucky to have her.” 

“Whoa, Dad. Don't get ahead of yourself here.” The younger man grinned. “We just got together. It's a little soon to be planning the wedding.” 

Waving away the objection, Gold teased. “Oh, I skipped over the wedding completely and went straight to plans for spoiling my grandchildren. I always wanted a large family you know. So I'm thinking three or four.” 

“Well for now keep your thoughts to yourself. I don't want to scare her off.” Then his son became more serious. “You're taking this much better than I expected. I was a little concerned we were going to have some sort of Romeo and Juliet scenario. 

“Although we still might from her side of the family.” He sighed. “I got a not too subtle hint from Regina that I'm not really a 'suitable' boyfriend.” 

“Feel free to drop hints about the size of my net worth. I'm sure my money is more than suitable” Gold frowned. “And what's Regina got to do with it?” 

“Can't have her step-granddaughter associating with jumped up gutter rats.” Neal snarled a little. “Not when there are more 'appropriate' young men who have 'connections'.” 

The first part of that statement threw him for such a loop he did not have the attention to let the second anger him. “ _Step-granddaughter_! You' were with _Emma_? I thought you fancied Belle.” 

Bae looked smug. “No, _you're_ the one who fancies Belle. And it's a good thing that Emma is as invested in Belle's love life as she is, cause otherwise I doubt she'd put up with double dating with my father.” 

“We haven't been...” She had been in and out of the house regularly for weeks. He had fed her half a dozen times, shared a hot tub and put her up for the night. Since it appeared he had not been helping Bae advance his courtship, it did look suspiciously like he had been advancing his own. “Do you think _she_ thinks we're dating?” 

“According to Emma, she thinks you are “delightfully old fashioned' but beginning to wonder if you are graysexual.” 

“I don't even know what that means.” Gold complained. Things had been so much simpler in his youth. You fancied a girl. You bought her a drink. If she fancied you back you got laid. 

Not that he had been any good at pulling even then. 

“Graysexual is where you aren't generally interested in sex, but occasionally somebody come along that gets your attention.” Bae was keeping his tone deliberately neutral. “Usually because of an emotional connection.” 

“Well, I'm not disinterested, I'm just crap with women.” Gold answered his son's unspoken question. 

“You're doing pretty well with Belle.” Bae pointed out. 

“Yeah, but that was when I thought she was going to be my daughter-in-law.” At least he did not have to be ashamed of those dreams any more. Not to mention, “Emma's quite a charming young woman as well.” 

Who had reasons to stay here in Storybrooke. And came from 'old money'. Admittedly not nearly as much of it as there used to be, but Bae would never need to worry about that. 

“Concentrate on your own love life.” Bae told him sternly. “While I'm glad you like Emma, if you want a bunch of little kids running around this house, there's no reason why you can't get them yourself.” 

“You're all right with the idea of me taking up with a girl your own age?” Gold was not going to upset the only family he had. Not even in the unlikely hope of expanding said family.

“Strangely enough you and Belle work together, Papa. So, yeah, you have my blessings.” Bae went back to eating his porridge. “Try not to screw it up, okay?” 

“Right.” Not screwing it up seemed like a good plan. Probably the best he could hope for. “Should I call her, do you think? She hasn't got any reason to come round any longer. Unless, maybe I could offer to help her put together a funding proposal for the library for next year?” 

“Or maybe you could just take her to dinner and a movie.” Bae suggested. “You like Star Wars. You could take her to the new one. But you're going to have to wait until after Christmas. She's leaving tonight to spend it with her Dad.” 

That was actually a relief. It gave him time to get used to the idea. And figure out how you went about dating someone in the 21st century. Ye Gods, it had literally been that long since he tried. 

The day she got back from visiting her father, Belle discovered Emma and Bae at Granny's when she stopped in for her afternoon tea break. “So how did your Christmases go?” Belle asked sliding into the booth opposite them. Noting they were sitting next to each other and a whole lot closer than they had before Christmas. 

“Well the party with Emma's family on Christmas day was great.” Bae told her. “A little overwhelming. I've never been to that kind of a big Christmas party before.” 

Emma snorted. “That was the scaled back version of the Blanchard/Nolan family party. With Mom still on bed rest Regina kept things 'simple'.” 

“And the rest of the holiday?” Bae was a friend as well as Emma's guy. If there were problems at home she wanted to know about it. And not just for Bae's sake. Angus was a friend as well. 

“Mum and Killian had a layover in Toronto on Christmas Eve on their way to some sailing thing in Greece.” Bae sighed. “I met them for dinner which consisted of overpriced steak and motherly concern over the life choices I'm making. Which would have been a little more convincing if she had shown any interest at all in my career choices over the last five years.” 

“She doesn't want you to give up art?” Belle asked. 

“She doesn't want me to move back to Maine.” There was a note of bitterness in Bae's voice. “In some way I don't quite understand living a subsistence existence in New York reflects well on her, but moving back to a good job in Maine means I am throwing my life away.” 

“Might that have something to do with your staying with your father?” Belle hazarded. 

“Probably.” Bae agreed. “Also she a photographer. She doesn't want me to stifle my soul in the pursuit of mere coin.” 

“She really said that?” Emma asked. 

“Yeah.” Bae sipped his coffee. “The thing is I actually like working with numbers. There's a beauty in solving problems and finding answers. When I paint it never comes out as good as I see it in my head. With accounts I can make them come together perfectly.” 

Emma snorted. “You know most parents would be overjoyed that their son likes his job. Especially when it's one that he can make good money at.” 

“My Dad certainly would prefer if I found a better paying career.” Belle added. 

“So your holiday had some glitches too?” Bae asked. 

Belle grimaced. “Well, I suppose it could have been worse. Dad didn't actually tell me I was wasting my life and should be studying for my MBA. He just hinted at it broadly. Oh, and he invited some guy he met at his club with the idea of fixing us up. Fellow apparently does something with the Patriots organization and couldn't talk about anything but football. _American_ football at that. What exactly is a down lineman anyway?” 

“You're asking me?” Bae said. “I was one of the goth art students. The only sport that I know anything about is soccer. Now if you want to know how Liverpool did this season...” 

“What, you guys don't follow the Celtics?” Belle teased. 

“Papa was raised a Rangers fan. Since the team got downgraded out of the Premier league he can't get their games here any longer, so he follows his second choice.” 

“Wait,” Emma looked horrified. “The Celtics are a soccer team? I thought I was defending Boston's basketball team when I was arguing with him about their chances.” 

“Yeah and it was hilarious listening to the two of you talking at cross purposes.” Bae was at least smart enough to try and hide his grin with his coffee cup. “Don't worry, Papa doesn't take his football all that seriously. Although don't be surprised if you get a Celtics FC scarf as a New Years gift. He didn't realize you weren't arguing about the same sport either and is pleased you're a fan of 'real' football.” 

“When did all this happen?” Belle tried to keep the curiosity out of her voice. 

“Christmas day.” Emma told her. “After Bae put up with coming to Regina's party, it seemed only fair to go back and spend some time with Angus after.” 

So they had progressed to spending holidays with each others families. Belle did a mental fist pump, but kept her face neutral. She would get the details out of Emma later when Bae was not around. 

“But never mind that,” Emma went on. “New Years gift? You guys give presents at New Years? When were you going to mention this? _After_ I didn't get your Dad anything?” 

“Uhm, yeah.” Bae looked sheepish. “Hogmanay, that's New Years Eve and day, is kind of a big deal in Scotland. Church of Scotland regarded Christmas as too papist, and didn't allow celebrations of it well into the 20th century. So instead they have these big parties at New Years. Why don't you guys come over for it. We don't make that big a deal out it. Mostly a nice dinner and, now that I'm old enough to drink, breaking out the good Scotch.” 

“And presents apparently.” Emma pointed out. “Is that why you guys only did stockings for each other at Christmas?” 

“Partly.” Bae answered. “That's the way Papa's Aunties did things, so after Mum left we kind of started doing things that way. The only reason we do the stockings at Christmas is that all the other kids got stuff, so Papa didn't want me to feel left out. But mostly it's because that's not what Christmas is really about. It's a religious holiday. You celebrate by helping other people. So we'd go to midnight service and then volunteer at a shelter or something the next day. We just never bought into the whole commercialization of the holiday.” 

That perspective also made an excellent excuse not to have to come up with the money for a lot of Christmas presents for a small child when you were barely keeping food on the table, Belle suspected. She had to admit the results were good. Bae was selfless and kind. Angus knew his stuff as a father. 

She wondered whether he was at all interested in giving it another shot. Because she rather wanted children someday. 

“Belle's home.” Bae announced as soon as he got in the door that night. 

Gold who was just putting a rather nice macaroni and cheese casserole with some of the left over Christmas ham into the oven looked up. Apparently his time for getting used to the idea of dating was up. “Oh. Uhm, did she have a nice time?” 

“Not really. Her Dad doesn't approve of her career choice and tried to set her up with some guy. Don't worry. They had nothing in common.” Bae leaned back against the sink. “And can I just say how grateful I am that you let me make my own choices about my career. I may have failed miserably at my first choice, but at least I got the chance to find out I wasn't any good at it.” 

“You're an excellent painter.” Gold disagreed. “It's not your fault representational art is out of fashion.” 

“An opinion shared by only you and Emma. Even Mom thinks my stuff is crap.” Bae mulled this over, while Gold wondered about the young man Belle had nothing in common with. 

“Anyway, I invited both of her and Emma for Hogmanay.” Bae informed him. 

Gold's first reaction was delight that Bae thought of this as so much his home that he would invite guests without first checking with Gold. His second was blind panic. “And they both agreed? A young woman like Belle can probably pick and choose among New Year's Eve dates.” 

“Yeah. And she choose to spend it with us.” Bae's smirk was back. “She clearly was not impressed by your competition. Big hulking American footballer who managed to bore her to tears talking about it.” 

Making a mental note _not_ to bring football up in the conversation, Gold asked. “And what did you plan to do to entertain them?” 

“We going to show them an old fashioned Glasgow Hogmanay. You'll cook. We'll get them presents. We'll each do a party turn. Sing Auld Lang Syne at midnight. You think Dove would be willing to come over for the first footing? You used to have him do it when I was a kid.” 

“I'll ask.” That did not sound too intimidating. Gold could handle putting together the sort of party his aunts had always done. It was not like it was an actual date. Just a party for friends. Right. “I can do this.” 

Bae smirked even more. 

Hogmanay was coming off rather well. Gold had cooked an exceptionally nice roast, complete with Yorkshire pudding. In deference to Bae and Emma he had substituted apple pie for the more traditional black bun. But Belle had brought a small fruit cake with hard sauce that he and she shared. Emma had politely tired a small slice, but Bae had just stated, “Oh, no. Mom used to try to get me to eat that stuff on the few Christmases I spent with her. I have no good memories of it. You and Papa can split my piece.” 

Emma seemed please with her Celtic FC scarf and presented him with one in Rangers colors in exchange. “I have to confess, I didn't knit it myself. It gave Mom a nice break from all the baby things she's been churning out.” 

The first edition of John Lubbock's poetry he had found for Belle appeared to delight her. She read out a couple of the poems for her party turn. 

Midnight came and went with a not too off key rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Toasts were drunk with Dove, who stopped by for the first footing; bringing shortbread and a good bottle of whiskey. (Gold had given him a generous Christmas bonus and a weekend skiing holiday at Christmas.) 

After Dove left, Gold and Belle found themselves together in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil for a late cup of tea. “This has been lovely. Thank you for having me.” 

“it was our pleasure.” Gold tried to think of something else to say and came up blank. “I'll check and see if Bae and Emma want some tea.” 

His son and Emma were no where to be seen. “However, I'm not checking upstairs.” He told Belle. 

“Probably wise.” Belle giggled. “Tea's ready. Shall I pour?” 

_They took their cups back to the living room. The fire had nearly died out leaving the room with a cozy glow._

_This would probably be a good time to say something romantic. Assuming he could come up with anything. He was flailing around for _something_ when Belle set down her tea cup and moved closer to him on the couch. “Look up.”_

_A sprig of mistletoe, that had not been there earlier in the evening, was tacked above the couch. “Aw. Well, it is traditional, if you don't mind?”_

_He had meant to make it a gentle first kiss. But then her hands were in his hair and her tongue tracing his lower lip. At that point any restraint went out the window._

_As his hand slipped under her skirt to settle on her thigh she pulled away. He immediately pulled back as well. “I'm sorry.” Clearly he had overstepped._

_“You should be.” Belle shook her head. “Your hand is freezing!”_

_Taking his hand she placed it against her stomach. Her sweater was thin enough that he could feel the warmth and softness of her belly. With her hand holding his in place this was actually more intimate than the feel of her leg he had been going for._

_“Cold hands warm heart.” She told him with a grin._

_“Hardly.” He snorted._

_“Oh, I beg to differ.” Her free hand slipped behind his neck and pulled him back toward her lips. “I've seen beneath the cold exterior to the real you.”_

_He should probably correct this misapprehension, but she was kissing him again. The ability to form coherent thought was rapidly escaping him._

_Sifting to a greater angle to make this easier he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders._

_This went on for several minutes until they had to break for air. At some point his hand had gone under her sweater and the skin there was as soft as he had imagined._

_“This would be more comfortable in a bed.” Belle suggested._

_“Bed?” His brain stuttered._

_“I know you have some upstairs.” She said. “I've even slept in one.”_

_“Uhm, are you sure?” Gold wanted her in his bed so bad it hurt. But, “If this is the whiskey talking and you regretted it tomorrow I'm not sure I could stand it.”_

_“I bought a box of condoms on the way over.” Belle smiled at him. “I'm sure.”_

_“Oh, well.” His mouth was dry. He took a sip of now cold tea. “Be a shame not to take advantage of your fine preparations._

_“Which were probably wise, because I don't have any.” He admitted._

_When they made it to his bedroom though there was a package of 'ribbed for her pleasure' sitting on his bedside table. Belle picked it up and raised her eyebrow. Gold looked embarrassed. “Those must be from Bae.”_

_“Or possibly Emma.” Belle pulled one out. “She used to leave them for me when we were in college.”_

_After that things moved quickly. Outer clothing ended up in piles on the floor. By the time they were in the bed, Belle was developing a considerable appreciation for older men. For starter he had a clear understanding of the concept of foreplay. Taking his time to explore her body without rushing to breasts or groin._

_When he did finally get his hand between her legs though he proved he knew what a clitoris was and had no qualms about exploring it. Stroking, tickling and even once pinching ever so slightly. By the time he had his fingers inside her, Belle was riding the crest of an orgasm that was better than she usually got with full on shagging._

_Angus was looking rather smug when she finally caught her breath from her climax._

_Two could play that game. She wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked. “Jesus,” He breathed._

_Continuing to stroke as she wrapped the condom around him, she had him ready for the next round quickly. But he hesitated. “This will work better with you on top.”_

_“Fine with me.” She straddled his hips as soon as he rolled onto his back. She was slippery enough from her orgasm that she had to guide him in. But once there they found an easy rhythm, matching his thrust with her downward motion. She grabbed his shoulders to steady herself. This was really good. His hand massaged her backside. Guiding her up and down. He was rapidly becoming more erratic in his thrusts. Crying out as she felt him shudder. She leaned down and kissed him as he rocked a few more times inside her, before slowly softening._

_She rolled off him, to settle against his side. Letting him have a moment to pull himself together and also to dispose of the condom. Once that was taken care of he rolled toward her. “Would you like me to...” His hand slipped between her legs again._

_“Actually I'm good.” She still felt wonderfully relaxed from her earlier orgasm. Having him inside her had merely prolonged the afterglow._

_Angus nodded at her assurance. Another plus for an older man. He actually listened to her and accepted she knew her own body. Some of the boys she dated thought sex was a contest to see how many orgasms they would wring out of her. “Will you stay?” He asked softly._

_“Yes. Please.” She snuggled in as the little spoon while Angus pulled the duvet up over them. “That is, will it be alright in the morning? With Bae here I mean.”_

_“They probably went back to Emma's” Angus slipped his arm under the pillow. “And if not, he's not ten. We won't have to explain why you stayed over.”_

_“How did you explain that? When he was ten?”_

_“Didn't ever have cause to.” Angus sounded a little sheepish. “My social life hasn't been all that active for rather a long time.”_

_“Well, it certainly didn't show.”_

_Angus chuckled. Kissing the back of her neck, he said. “I think I should be able to go a little longer after I'm back in practice.”_

_That would be nice. Still. “I've no complaints.”_

_She woke the next morning to pale sunlight peeking through the drapes. Angus was curled against her back. Still breathing with with the slow steadiness of deep sleep. Carefully so as not to wake him, she slid out of bed. Grabbing his shirt, bathrobe and helping herself to a pair of socks from his truly impressive walk in closet, she used the bathroom down the hall._

_The next most pressing need was something to drink. She decided to make a pot of tea and bring it upstairs to share with Angus. Sharing a nice morning cuppa might just lead to other pleasant activities. She might even throw together some some muffins as well. Needed to keep his strength up after all._

_But as she padded into the kitchen she found she was not the only one this that thought. Emma, dressed in last night's clothes, but with a towel wrapped around her hair was seated at the table sipping coffee._

_Bae was at the stove working over an impressive number of pots and pans. “Morning, Belle,” He sang out._

_“I've nearly got a full English fry up ready.” He grinned. “And the kettle's hot if you want tea. Papa not up yet?”_

_“Uhm, no.” Well at least it did not sound like Bae had any issues with finding her wandering around the house wearing his father's clothing._

_She sat down at the table with Emma to wait for the tea to steep. The other woman grinned. “Good night?”_

_“Very.” She grinned back. “You too I take?”_

_“Oh, yeah,” Glancing fondly at Bae, who was humming as he fried things, Emma dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “Man has real talent with his tongue. And no reluctance to use it.”_

_“I can still _hear_ you.” Bae came out with. “I am now going to the pantry for a minute, so you can finish this exchange of confidences without forever scarring my tender young mind. By the time I get back you best be done.”_

_As he left the room, Emma demanded, “So? Clearly you didn't have to worry about him being interested. Everything still in working order?”_

_“Oh, yeah. And he likes to take his time.” Belle kept her voice low. “Is Bae really as okay about this as he's making out to be?”_

_“He's the one who hung the mistletoe and took me upstairs to the third floor guest room so as to 'give you some privacy'. So I'd say yes.” Emma was still smiling. “Although since the privacy worked both ways he may have had an underlying agenda for that.”_

_“I left you the condoms, though. You never used to remember those.”_

_Gold woke alone. A quick glance around showed Belle's clothes still on the floor, so presumably she had not gone far. He took the time to shave and dress before heading downstairs. No telling who else was in the house._

_Which proved wise as he found his son, Emma and Belle dishing up food. “You're just in time for breakfast, Papa.” Bae passed him a plate loaded with bacon, eggs, potatoes and baked beans._

_Emma was eyeing the last suspiciously. “Beans? For breakfast? Is this another Gold family thing like porridge for dinner?”_

_“No.” Belle passed him the toast. “It's a Brit thing. Try it. There great for soaking up any left over booze in your system.”_

_“Well, I suppose I can get used to it.” Emma took a tentative bite._

_Gold certainly hoped that to be the case. He would give much for this breakfast to become a new holiday tradition. Perhaps passed down to another generation._

_The End_


End file.
